Catching Elephant is a theme by Andy Taylor
Awkward confession time
I can’t watch any of Rick Steves’ Europe shows without crying.
Just losing my shit over Belfast, nothing to see here.
actual thing I just said to an empty room
“Ok, gods of history and/or gods of queer, here’s the thing. If you guys help me out and get me into grad school in DC I swear to you I will do everything in my power to get at least an internship at the national LGBT history museum to help make that business a reality and make you guys proud, ok?”
What’s that? I’m a giant nerd? No, it’s Halloween and I’m 11. (I’m a giant nerd every day.)
(Things that weren’t made with tits in mind: suspenders. Most of men’s wear, actually. But mostly suspenders.)
I’m just going to go ahead and preemptively apologize in case I become one of those assholes who post nothing but pictures of their cat.
Right now the options are: either I rage about politics, wail about my lack of gainful employment, or overload you with pictures of Samson being cute. I think I know which one we all prefer.
apropos of my last post
I feel I should mention: I actively dislike Katy Perry.
apropos of nothing
If the places I’ve lived were the people I’ve dated, Germany would be the one I call at 2 am while sloppy drunk in order to leave a horrible rendition of “Teenage Dream” on their answering machine.
EXCUSE ME WHILE I LISTEN TO MIKA’S NEW ALBUM. EXCUSE ME WHILE I SEE HE HAS A SONG CALLED “EMILY”. EXCUSE ME WHILE I ROLL AROUND ON THE FLOOR.
CAPS LOCK IS A NECESSITY.
as you were.
Mom: One of my friends is going to Germany tomorrow.
Em: AHHHHH why am I not going to Germany tomorrow.
Mom: She knows people who have a vinyard outside Frankfurt.
Em: AHHHH I know people who have vinyards outside Frankfurt.
Mom: And then they're going to Oktoberfest.
Em: AHHHH I know people who are going to Oktoberfest.
Things I have learned about myself in the past week:
- I fucking hate soup. Soup is a bullshit food I never want to eat again.
- I am boss at making smoothies.
- Vicodin and hospital strength ibuprofen (and a diet of soup and more soup and fuck my life is that soup again?) turn me into the biggest bitch.
- The fact that I’m epically terrible at not sleeping on my face, even while drugged, so my choice was epic pain or basically no sleeping (and basically no sleeping won every time) definitely contributed to this phenomenon.
- Seriously though the floodgates of semi-psychotic rage and pure hate have never been as wide open as they were on day 2 post wisdom teeth when I somehow found myself watching Fox news and verbally abusing the commentators. The phrase “you look like a cheap Liza Minelli impersonator and you just failed utterly at a basic subject verb agreement get the fuck off my TV screen and crawl back into that hole you came from, you twat waffle” was uttered.
- How do I have friends?
One of the top things I miss about my job (less than the location, more than the kids even though I almost grew to love those little bastards, and even more than the money) is the minimum 45 minutes of (mostly) uninterrupted reading time I got on the bus/streetcar every day.
I just feel lazy and unproductive and borderline guilty sitting around reading all day even though that’s basically all there is to do right now.
That said, if you aren’t reading “Rivers of London” (and its sequels) by Ben Aaronovitch you should get on that. Right now. Magic and jazz and London and history and Britishisms! The hell more do you want?
